


Shouldn't Have Slept In

by Weirdmageddon



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:18:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weirdmageddon/pseuds/Weirdmageddon
Summary: Bill has far too much fun with a deal.





	1. Chapter 1

They awoke with a start, beads of sweat making their way down their forehead as they attempted to recall their last memory.  
Where were they? This hadn't felt like home - and that was another thing. They had no choice but to go by gut instinct _alone_ with that assumption, their eyes covered and their mouth unable to form any questions. They felt numb, drowsy—almost like they took an extra dosage of cold medicine the evening prior. They couldn't recall doing anything like that however, and their lack of eyesight increases their worry tenfold. While they may not be able to see, they are certainly able to hear, and this sense makes itself present whenever they hear heels click against tile flooring; their home didn't have any tile, did it? Such a thing should click immediately, but it doesn't. 

"Wakey-wakey, Sleeping Beauty!" The sudden voice startled them, and they would've jumped... had they been able to. They seemed to be glued to their seat (which likely wasn't possible; maybe they were held down with something?), and with a couple shakes of the wrist, they noted there was a rough texture against their skin. Their breathing quickened.

"Well, well, well! Maybe you _weren't_ **SLEEPING THE DAY AWAY** after all! I'll try not to judge so _quickly_ next time, kid! Anyways..." 

Great; not only were they apparently kidnapped, they were kidnapped by a particularly eccentric individual that loved the sound of his own shrill voice. The fear overwhelmed any bit of sarcasm however, and it was hard to suppress the chill that eventually runs down their spine as they intake a sharp breath. The way the stranger randomly emphasized certain words somehow adds to his creepiness; voice low before unexpectedly becoming louder, booming.

"Listen, as enjoyable of an experience as this is gonna be for **ME** and definitely **NOT for YOU** , keep in mind I'm just following through with MY PART of a particularly **FAVORABLE BUSINESS TRANSACTION**! Nothing PERSONAL, unless you're the type to get EASILY OFFENDED! Guy had real specific details, too! Definitely handy. I'm not really a fan of being BOSSED AROUND, but I just _couldn't_ pass it up! Doesn't get more exciting than an old fashioned 'HEY KILL THIS GUY FOR ME' situation!" 

Suddenly, they're facing a different direction—and his voice is uncomfortably close. What did he mean by that? That certainly doesn't have a good ring to it... and if anything, he told them all they really needed to know to get the picture. They felt nauseous, hands tugging at their restraints once more. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care, continuing on with his rambling. They've since tuned him out at the mentioning of murder, thoughts having become clouded as dread settles in. 

"—Anywho, THAT'S another story for ANOTHER TIME! I'd say we get the show on the road before my 'ole pal calls me up. Guy's not as patient as me! So, let's see... where to..."  
His voice trailed off, and by this point, they deem getting their hands free a useless task. Their mouth was so uncomfortably _dry_ that speech didn't feel possible, each attempt falling flat. What did he do to them?

"I wouldn't worry your head about THAT! I didn't have a part in your TEMPORARY MUTISM. I'd say that pal of mine is the mastermind behind that; maybe you should ask him! Ohh, riiight... that'll be HARD TO ACHIEVE whenever you're SIX-FEET UNDER, huh? Nah, I'm messing with ya. He wanted me to say some kind of STEREOTYPICAL VILLAIN LINE to 'sell the scene'... speaking of the whole villain shebang, the name's **BILL**. BILL CIPHER if ya wanna be fancy. Which probably won't last very LONG considering the **UNAVOIDABLE HORRIFIC ODDS STACKING AGAINST YOU**." 

_How had he heard that?_ Their only response was a cruel, unnerving laugh. Then another, followed by a third. His quickly shifting attitudes threw them for a loop, their mind trying to catch up as the sound of something— _metal?_ —clinks in the room. The next thing they're aware of is a sudden piercing ache in their jaw, and they thrashed wildly (or as much as they can in their current position), unknowingly worsening their pain. Their reaction drew an irritated huff of air from the stranger, halting in his actions for the moment—

"Sheesh, you aren't even _USING_ it. Pretty sure it's just TAKING UP PRECIOUS SPACE that could be used for something _BETTER!_ Like a RE-ATTACHABLE JAW—sometimes ya need it, **SOMETIMES YA DON'T**. Really, consider it a body modification." 

With this, the sharp object glided to the right (not without some struggle and effort on the stranger's behalf), before sharply going downwards; the blade hits bone unexpectedly quick. By now, tears are beginning to steadily drip down their face, accidentally slipping into the lengthy wound—significantly adding more sting. A hum escaped the man.

"Whoops! Forgot about these! Guess the bone's GOTTA GO! He really didn't have to, and frankly I didn't **ASK** , but he mentioned he particularly _hated_ how STRONG OF A JAWLINE you have! Trust me, even _**I**_ thought it was petty, but y'know—instructions are instructions." 

Without so much as a warning, a —gloved?—hand reached into their mouth, and they attempted to bite down on the intruding limb, but garner no reaction as the stranger continued his task, pressing down against the bottom of their mouth as his other hand digs into the earlier wound; adding further pressure directly onto the bone. They continue to squirm as the pain worsened, previous ache turning into downright _agony_ as they hear a dull click. Perhaps it's the adrenaline or maybe it's their mind blocking out the obvious injury, but they aren't aware of the bone breaking apart from their skull; fixated instead on the skin-deep gash that has been cut into their cheek.

They couldn't see the blood that ran down the side of their face, but they certainly _felt_ the warm, sticky liquid as it not only dripped onto their neck but also slid down their throat, and it's only by sheer self control alone that they don't retch it back up. Their kidnapper seemed dissatisfied with his work, likely due to how easily the task was performed... this idea furthered their dread. Despite the buzzing in their ears, they were able to make out the man making a rather disgusted sound before patting his hands against something... their shoulder? They can't tell, they felt like he was all around them. _Observing_ , fascinated by their reaction.

"Mind watching where ya SPIT? It's almost like you think I'm a MURDERER or somethin'! I'd be **OFFENDED** if I wasn't so **FLATTERED** by that entirely _correct_ assumption!"  
  
As soon as he opened his mouth yet again they want nothing more than for him to shut it, to leave them alone. They tried to ignore how... a part of their body is just—dangling, freely hanging there, before they attempt speech... just for incoherent mumbling. Surely missing the entirety of their lower jaw would cause such complications, certainly, but their... _tongue_ — _what happened to their tongue?_ Their attempt at speech, an attempt at another call for help, felt goopy, sticky, immovable, painful—this action seemed to cause something to click for the stranger, a noise of realization having escaped him.

"Ooooh! That's what 'ole FISH EYES did to ya. Chopped off your tongue! No wonder something felt **DIFFERENT**. Oh well! Less SLIMY, _FLESHY_ BITS for me to take care of, the better! Now..." 

He must've distanced himself while they weren't paying attention after the previous act, as he now walked forward, his steps echoing in the otherwise silent room.

" _Let's continue_."


	2. Chapter 2

_Continue?_ Anger began to overtake the overwhelming anxiety their body was formerly plagued with, worsening with every step he took. Eager to witness his victim's reactions, the stranger who previously identified his name as Bill — reached his hands behind their head, untying the cloth that had robbed them of their sight. The blindfold fell carelessly to the ground as they blinked rapidly; the lighting in the room was scarce, however it was enough to temporarily cause dark spots in their vision.  


Once they fade, their eyes glance upon Bill, letting out a noise of alarm. He looked far from a man — his eyes bright, unfocused — a singular eye placed upon his forehand seemed to be the only one functioning. It had a yellow tint to it, a feline-like slit glancing almost _joyfully_ at them as the realization dawned upon them; _he couldn't have been human._ The next most notable detail was his extra set of arms, arguably less "arms" and more so "slender, vaguely 'human' appendages meant to replace arms" that rested on his hips nonchalant, seemingly waiting for a cue. He seemed almost obnoxiously decorated in triangle symbols, his fashion sense resembling that of an almost hilariously out-of-touch uncle.  


They had only seen something so undeniably alien in movies before, but now such a monstrosity stood in front of them proudly as they attempted to comprehend the form before them. One of his fingers tapped against the still hanging jaw as he brought it up almost _gingerly_ , shooting a startling bolt of pain upon their nerves.  


"My eye's up **HERE** , sweetheart!"  


Their look of pure, unadulterated disdain only worsened at the comment, their own way of attempting to convey their message without speech. His head tilted as a warm, breathy chuckle fanned against their face, content with their reaction. He released their jaw, his expression remaining pleased as unnaturally sharp teeth flashed a smile, backing away to retrieve a previously forgotten tool.  
Their look faltered for a moment as they noticed the blood stained scalpel glinted faintly in the light, their eyes glancing almost pitifully at the weapon. _What had they done to deserve this?_ They couldn't recall, and somehow the thought of having scorned someone so terribly to the point of them wishing ill — no, _death_ — upon them somehow hurt worse than their detached lower jaw. Their hands began to shake as the being seemed to contemplate his next moves, shifting the scalpel between his fingers.

"Y'know somethin'?" He turned on his heel, single eye paying full attention to their shivering form, "Considering the whole... **ONE EYE THING** , you'd think I would've gouged out more eyes than the greatest mathematician could ever calculate! Sad to announce that couldn't be **FARTHER FROM THE BORING TRUTH**. So, maybe this whole 'BLIND THING' won't be so bad for you! Help you, help me type of thing — it's a good thing you're such a **GIVING SPIRIT**."  


Bill completely bypassed the teasing he had with his earlier act, appearing before their eyes in a flash before two fingers pried open their eyelids. They kicked at the ground in an attempt to gain leverage, and whenever it appeared fruitless, they instead began aiming for wherever Bill's legs - _did he even have legs?_ \- would be; they eventually hit a boot-like material successfully, momentarily throwing the stranger off of his concentration.  


Their victory didn't last for long however, another crazed laugh giving them all the explanation they really needed before the tool is jabbed ruthlessly into their eye. A muffled shout barely managed to escape their throat as Bill continued to wiggle the object in their eye, squelching echoing in their ears. Their pain was indescribable; they felt every _twist_ , _turn_ and _drag_ of the tool as he continued to drag it along a portion of their eye, seemingly following a pattern as groggy whimpers escaped them.  


With a hum, he pulled back the scalpel, handing it to one of his lower hands as he reached two fingers to either side of the eye, squeezing it and beginning to tug it out; much to their protest, their head thrashing from side to side, their kicks having never stopped. He _tsk_ ed.  


"You're only making this **UNDENIABLY HORRIFIC PAIN** worse, y'know that, right? Stay still for a fraction of a second; who knows, maybe I'll even let you keep the OTHER ONE."  


He began to put more force into it now, fully grasping the eye in his palm as he reeled his arm back, the wet squelching echoing in the room as he _pulled_ and _pulled_ and _pulled_ , before coming to an abrupt stop. They continued to whine, whimper, plead as much as they could — but the sounds fall on deaf ears as the dull ache continues, gradually growing more and more unbearable as two hands now gripped the string-like thread that connected to their eye. A grunt of effort escaped him before he was rewarded with a deafening _snap_ , the thread now dragging down their injured cheek before falling to their lap, discarded.  


"Woo! Talk about a **LOOKER!** "  


Whatever vision remained was cloudy, their mind on the very cusp of falling unconscious. Their gaze was downcast before a gory display is shoved into their line of sight, their missing organ placed on their lap, almost like a trophy. Like he was proud of it, proud of the horrific deed he just accomplished. Blood began to mix in with the tears that bitterly rolled down their cheeks, their thoughts intertwining together as they shuddered uncontrollably. Thoughts of their loved ones, thoughts of mistakes, thoughts of possible errors that could've driven them to this horrific fate all seemed to bleed together, their breathing slowing down. Making one last effort at existing, their eye settled upon the "gift" placed on their lap, bile beginning to rise in their throat.  


There, where a pupil— _their_ pupil—once appeared, was the pattern he had been carving; a lone triangle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Thank you to those who read this small story of mine.


End file.
